


All Fall In Their Time

by raptorific



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, On the Run, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, on the lam, slow to medium burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raptorific/pseuds/raptorific
Summary: The Talon organization was, by design, not the sort of place you’d want to work if you dislike being doublecrossed. Generally speaking, the way you got a promotion was by deciding which job you wanted, murdering the person who already had it, and then simply starting to do it. If anyone had a problem with that, they would be welcome to challenge you for it. It had amazing job security, however: everyone who worked there kept their job until the day they died.





	1. Exit Strategy

“We’ve got a long way to go before we get to the safehouse,” Sombra said from the overstuffed bed in their hotel room, “may as well get some rest.”

“How am I supposed to rest?” Fareeha replied, “After what you’ve done, how the hell am I supposed to get a wink of sleep?”

“You can’t stay glued to the news,” Sombra insisted, “it hasn’t changed. You’re still dead.”

Although Fareeha was clearly not dead, Sombra was also not simply being glib. To understand what Sombra meant, it was important to know what had transpired 24 hours previously, in Maximilien’s office in Monaco. 

The Talon organization was, by design, not the sort of place you’d want to work if you dislike being doublecrossed. Generally speaking, the way you got a promotion was by deciding which job you wanted, murdering the person who already had it, and then simply starting to do it. If anyone had a problem with that, they would be welcome to challenge you for it. It had amazing job security, however: everyone who worked there kept their job until the day they died. 

Their ambitions were nebulous at best, since the organization was led by committee and, as the old saying goes, if there’s 13 supervillains around a table, there’s 15 ulterior motives. Maximilien, a high-ranking omnic on the Talon high council, sought to change that. He had devised a list of targets who, once eliminated, would leave absolutely no one in his way of controlling Talon’s entire army, and no one to oppose that army as they seized control of numerous countries and eventually the entire world. 

He hadn’t told all this to Sombra, of course, he knew she’d be opposed to the concept of instituting a military junta that controlled the entire planet; he’d simply told her that her mission was to assassinate a Helix Securities officer, Fareeha Amari, and turn over control of the God Program known as “Anubis” to Talon. 

However, an omnic trying to keep a secret from a hacker is roughly like a human trying to keep a secret from a telepath. Sombra saw through his charade immediately, but since she knew she’d be killed on the spot if she threatened to expose his plan, she had to find a way to convince him that she was unwittingly performing her part in his master plan while actually sabotaging it. 

This is why Fareeha was anxiously monitoring a news feed on their hotel room’s holo-screen that detailed the epic battle between the imprisoned Anubis AI and his jailer, Helix Securities Captain Fareeha “Pharah” Amari, which claimed both of their lives, as well as the life of an unknown hacker believed to be affiliated with the terrorist organization Talon. The only part of this headline that was true is that there was an epic battle and that Anubis was dead. 

The rest of it was an elaborate skit Sombra had staged. Helix’s firewalls were easy to break through, and once she had installed herself as the Temple’s administrators, it was easy for her to delete the Anubis AI and remotely take control of its original body, a colossal Jackal-headed android, and even easier for her to hijack Fareeha’s Raptorion armor, eject her from it, and have a giant, loud, attention-grabbing, self-indulgent, explosion-laden fight in front of just about every camera in a half-mile radius. En route from Venice to Cairo, Sombra had stopped at a hotel at Ilios, reserved a room under a pseudonym, and stashed her translocator in the bed so she and Fareeha could escape undetected. As far as hotel staff was concerned, they were a pair of American backpackers trying to see the famous Ilios ruins. 

“I can’t even contact my mother?” Fareeha asked, not breaking eye contact with the news feed, “Please, she has to know I’m not dead.”

“Believe me, your mother of all people has no place being mad at anyone for faking their death,” Sombra laughed. 

“I didn’t fake my death,” Fareeha scoffed, “ _you_ faked my death.”

“What I did was save your life,” Sombra replied, “you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Did it ever once occur to you to just tip me off? Helix could’ve put us both into protective custody, witness protection. Increased security around Anubis so Talon couldn’t hijack him.”

“You underestimate Talon,” Sombra explained. “They sent me to hack through the firewall because it was less expensive than sending an army large enough to overwhelm Helix’s defenses. They don’t care about casualties, the lives of their troopers are meaningless to management. That’s why it had to look like you killed Anubis in the fracas; if he was still alive the temple would be crawling with Talon enforcers right now.”

“Why did you have to make it look like _I_ killed him, though?”

“Worried about your reputation?” Sombra quipped. 

“I mean, if you’re supposed to be dead anyway, why can’t the world know the truth, that you killed Anubis?”

“This had to look like it had gone 100% according to his plan except for my death. If he knew I’d been working to sabotage him, he might’ve looked more closely at the charred cadavers found at the temple in our clothes and realized we weren’t dead. Since my next step is to bring down Maximilien--”

“--You needed it to look like you died successfully executing his plan, and Anubis is the one who couldn’t play his part.” Fareeha paused for several moments. “Who were they?”

“Who was who?”

“The Jane Doe they think is you,” Fareeha whispered, “and the body you put in my suit before you hijacked it?”

“Ah, them,” Sombra replied. “Do you really want to know?”

“I think it’s only right.”

“Well, they weren’t good guys, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sombra quipped, “the fake You was a Vishkar executive who Talon paid to identify children with special abilities and sell them to Talon so they could be groomed as weapons. The fake Me was a human trafficker for the mafia.”

Fareeha took this in. “Did you kill them?”

“Natural causes,” Sombra replied sarcastically, “see, they both had lead allergies and I accidentally exposed them to some.”

There was a bit more silence as Fareeha continued refreshing her news feed and Sombra continued scrolling through a social network using one of her many false identities. 

“Vishkar is a publicly-traded corporation. They’re in Talon’s pocket?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Wal-Mart also uses sweatshop labor,” Sombra said, “show me a corporation that’s not evil and I’ll show you a PR team made up of the world’s best liars.”

“What about Helix?” Fareeha offered as a halfhearted Gotcha.

“Heh, why do you think Anubis was kept imprisoned? It clearly wasn’t hard to kill him, and it’s not like Overwatch had much of an issue with killing violent machines in their day. Now, why would a private security firm that would profit from access to an army of disposable soldiers want to keep an entity capable to mind-controlling hordes of robots alive even though said entity previously plunged the world into a war that claimed billions of lives?”  
Fareeha pondered this a moment and, upon realizing the inescapable answer, decided not to press it any further tonight.

“When we get to this safehouse,” Fareeha asked, “am I expected to just stay there until this is all over?”

“The safehouse is more of a rendezvous point,” Sombra said sleepily, “I’ve made some new friends recently who’ll be giving us more assistance once we’re there. I imagine they’ll want your help but I’m not your dad and neither are any of my new friends, I don’t think. Do what you want once we get there. But as I’ve said, you should get some rest. We’ve got a long flight tomorrow and we’re gonna have to hit the ground running.”

“You aren’t going to stay up and make sure I don’t run for it?”

“If you really want to learn what a Talon assassin’s blades feel like against your pancreas that bad, I doubt I can stop you. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Fareeha looked up from her holo-screen. “There’s only one bed.”

Sombra threw a pillow at Fareeha’s head. “Grow up. We’re on the lam.”


	2. Bachelorette Party of Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha reached into her over-the-shoulder bag to pull out a bottle of concealer and a bright green scrunchie. Sombra gave a lot of thought to the technical solutions to their problems but never thought about the basic tradecraft of disguise. About fifteen seconds later, her trademark udjat tattoo was invisible, the conspicuous jewelry she usually wore was gone, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It was a simple yet functional disguise, effective enough that a moment later when she walked up to her group, Sombra almost didn’t recognize her.

“You went through all the trouble of faking our deaths and then you brought us to an airport?” Fareeha asked from the passenger seat of the car Sombra had commandeered. “We’ve only made it to the parking lot and I’ve already seen fifteen security cameras.”

“Relax,” Sombra said, “I’m a wanted criminal on eight continents. If I didn’t know how to deal with security cameras I could never leave my house. There isn’t a facial recognition algorithm on earth that I haven’t quietly reprogrammed to edit my face out of any video footage. I added your face to the blacklist this morning. Anyone looking at us through that camera right now will see two random women with no criminal records or identifying tattoos.”

“There’s only seven continents,” Fareeha pointed out. 

“Don’t be naive,” Sombra jabbed back, “The question is, how do we get you past security?”

“How do we get  _ me _ past security?” Fareeha asked incredulously. 

“Ha ha,” Sombra replied, “I can just walk past security without being seen. You can’t turn invisible. You’re carrying a dead woman’s ID and you have an identifying mark burned into your face, which by the way has been splashed across every news channel for the past 24 hours. First rule of faking your death is don’t get caught alive the next day. We have contacts inside the airport already who can give us a cover story but they can only do that if we can get to them.”

“What about that thing?” Fareeha asked, “You grabbed me, back in Cairo, and then a second later we’d been transported to a hotel room.”

Sombra smiled. “Genius.”

Fareeha looked confused. Sombra took a small bracelet off her ankle and a small, old-fashioned cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to her. 

“Put this on,” Sombra said. “I’m going to sneak past security and get into a bathroom--”

“Why a bathroom?”

“Name another place in an airport with no cameras.”

“I thought you took care of the cameras.” Fareeha pointed out.

“I did, and I can make it look like we’re two vacationing housewives as much as I want but I can’t make it less suspicious that you suddenly appeared out of thin air,” Sombra tapped away on a holo-screen she seemed to generate from her glove. “I’ve sent our fake faces to my hacker on the inside and they’re making sure there will be no questions about how we left the bathroom without ever entering it. Once we’re in the bathroom, we just have to get to the gate and we’ll be home free.”

“And I get into the bathroom using your, whatever, beacon?”

“When I’m in the bathroom, I’m going to call you on that burner,” Sombra explained, “don’t answer it, just press the button on your anklet, come out of the bathroom, and just sorta… roll with it. You do know how to improvise a cover, yes?”

“You know I have covert ops experience, right?” Fareeha smiled. 

“That’s my girl,” Sombra winked, and left the car. 

 

Five minutes later, which was less time than Fareeha was expecting an airport break-in to take, the burner buzzed and Fareeha pressed the small black button on her anklet. In a flash of purple, the bucket seat of Sombra’s borrowed hatchback transformed into a toilet beneath her and the interior of the car became an airport bathroom stall. 

Fareeha left the stall and took a moment to wash her hands, although she had not used the bathroom, and reached into her over-the-shoulder bag to pull out a bottle of concealer and a bright green scrunchie. Sombra gave a lot of thought to the technical solutions to their problems but never thought about the basic tradecraft of disguise. About fifteen seconds later, her trademark udjat tattoo was invisible, the conspicuous jewelry she usually wore was gone, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. 

It was a simple yet functional disguise, effective enough that a moment later when she walked up to her group, Sombra almost didn’t recognize her. Fareeha took a small amount of pride in this, but she was not prepared for when Sombra spoke. 

“SARAAAAAAH!” Sombra yelled in an over-the-top shrill New Jersey accent, “GAWD, what took you so long!? We was about to leave you behind!”

Fareeha had really no response to this charade, so she gave none. 

“Is good to see you again,” said one of Sombra’s companions in a deep, Russian-accented voice. “You remember me from university. I am old friend of Jane.” She pointed at Sombra. 

“Stawp, Helena!” Sombra cackled, “she remembers you! You’ve already had too much to drink, haven’t you?”

Sombra’s companions looked as uncomfortable as Fareeha was. One of them, an incredibly muscular woman with pink hair, whom Fareeha was sure she recognized from somewhere, was carrying two bags, and absolutely everyone in the group could tell it was almost entirely because she had no idea what to do with her hands. The other was an omnic with an oversized hoodie. 

“Hi,” the omnic said aloud in a rich Numbanian accent and an apathetic tone of voice, “I’m Lynx and I’m not, uh, doing whatever bit this is. My friend is Zarya. We’ll be with you as far as Omnigrad.”

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Sombra said as loudly as possible. “It’s my last night as a FREE WOMAN before the big day, and I’m gonna go out with a bang ifyaknowwhatimean!”

Fareeha reached out and offered her hand to Zarya and Lynx. “Hi, I’m, uh, Sarah.”

Lynx’s ears drooped in disappointment. “Look, we can just talk like normal people and use our real names at this point. She’s gonna keep acting like a drunk idiot and nobody’s gonna make eye contact with our group until we get to the plane. She doesn’t need our help.”

Fareeha considered this. “Fareeha Amari.”

Lynx’s ears perked up. “From the news?! You’re ALIVE?!”

Fareeha panicked for a moment. 

“I’m messing with you. Let’s go.”

“I gawt backstage passes to the Lucio concert in LOS ANGELES!” Sombra squealed, “the four of us are gonna show him the night of his life, right ladies?”

Lynx’s ears drooped again. 

Zarya mumbled to Fareeha, “I thought we were supposed to only say believable things.”

Fareeha laughed, and they moved toward the gate. Lynx explained that Zarya and themself were actually going back to Siberia in order to attempt to work both sides and end the war, but that their plane would be continuing on to Los Angeles. 

“The part about the backstage passes wasn’t a lie, though,” Lynx explained, “well, the weirdly crude implication  _ she  _ made for some reason was, but you will use these passes to meet up with Lucio after the concert. He’s a friend of our benefactor, and his tour bus will be your passage to the safehouse.”

“And where is the safehouse?” Fareeha asked, “When do I finally get to meet this mysterious benefactor?”

Zarya said something to the effect of “Ian O.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s as close to a name as we can give you right now,” Lynx whispered, “You’ll get some answers from Lucio in L.A. and the rest from Ian O. at the safehouse. I know it’s frustrating, but there’s a very good reason why this all has to be so secretive.”

“There had better be,” Fareeha sighed. 

On the flight to Siberia, they were mostly silent. Zarya was not the talkative type, and while Lynx and Sombra were, they didn’t seem to get along very well. This did not, however, stop Sombra from giving Lynx the double-cheek-kiss and a pat on the head as they parted, causing Lynx’s ears to fall back into an “anger” position. 

Their red-eye to LA was a lot longer than Fareeha had expected. She actually slept through most of it. She was surprised, when she awoke, to find Sombra’s head resting on her shoulder. She saw that they were starting their descent, and initially thought to wake Sombra, but thought better of it. She was sure someone would be along to let them know when they touched down. Fareeha closed her eyes and breathed softly. She didn’t fall back asleep, she just didn’t know when she’d have another moment to relax, and she figured, as opportunities for relaxing moments go, she could do worse than this one. 

Fareeha had never listened to Lucio’s music before. She was eagerly looking forward to the concert. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: attempting to sneak into an airport is a bad idea and I promise this would not actually work in real life.


	3. On The Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You trust me because I’m one of the only honest people you’ll ever meet. Most people spend their lives hiding the uglier parts of themselves and making up beautiful parts to show the world."

“Liv, great to finally meet you in the flesh!” Lucio’s onstage charisma clearly was not an act. He was around the same height as Sombra but, for some reason, he seemed to be the tallest person in the room. He gave Sombra the same double cheek-kiss she’d given Lynx the previous day, but realized that he was about eight inches too short to attempt the same with Pharah, so he simply offered to shake her hand. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Correia dos Santos,” Fareeha said nervously, “you certainly put on a show.”

“Please, Mr. Correia dos Santos is… well, that’s no one. Mr. Santos is my father. Call me Lucio, I’m practically begging you.” She shook his hand and he gently kissed the back of it, but it was clear he was the sort of man who would only ever do this after reading the room and being sure it was appropriate. He was not wrong, it was almost impossible to be uncomfortable around him. “Can I offer either of you a refreshment? My man makes one hell of a Batida.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Sombra laughed, “I think I danced every ounce of water out of my body.”

“I don’t drink,” Fareeha said matter-of-factly. 

“Respectable,” Lucio said, “Neither does my guy, I’ll tell him to hold the liquor in yours, okay?”

Fareeha smiled, “sounds great!”

Lucio stepped out, presumably to instruct his man to make the drinks. 

“Liv?” Fareeha asked, “you gave him a fake name too?”

Sombra considered this for easily five seconds. “Yes.”

“How do you even know him? He’s like, A-List.”

“All the progressive-minded super-scientists have an encrypted chat server. His experience with Vishkar was vital in my attack on Lumerico.”

“Super-scientist? You?”

“You know I built all this stuff in the side of my head, right?” Sombra explained, “and he managed to create a song that could regenerate damaged cells, on a budget of zero reais, in a shack in a Rio favela. We can’t all be Dr. Zhou, but we’re every bit the super-scientist she is.”

This surprised Fareeha. “You know Mei? I had such a crush on her in high school.”

“She’s in the server,” Sombra shrugged, “and you have good tastes, she’s a lot cuter than the rest of us in there!”

“So far you seem like an attractive group,” Fareeha smirked, “and if you mean cute like a kitten, Lucio’s practically travel-sized, I mean, I could pick him up one-handed!”

“I often do,” said a tinny yet familiar voice from behind them. 

Fareeha turned to face the man who’d just walked in with two soft pink beverages and, even though his face was completely covered, she recognized him instantly. 

“Genji?!” Fareeha beamed, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Ms. Amari, how pleased I was to hear the reports of your death were exaggerated.” Genji set the drinks down and gave her a hug. 

“Runs in the family,” Fareeha laughed. 

“I would be in no position to hold it against you,” Genji said warmly. “I have spoken to your mother, incidentally.”

Fareeha tensed. “How much trouble am I in?”

“She simply said ‘we will discuss it upon her return.’”

“That much, huh?” Fareeha replied. “And Reinhardt?”

“Absolutely devastated,” Genji said casually, “Just like when you were 20 and told him to his face that you had died as a joke, and he began crying.”

“Hey,” Sombra piped up, “can I have my drink.” This was far more of a statement than a question. 

“Ah, yes, here you go, Ms.…” Genji paused, clearly just now realizing he had no idea what Sombra’s family name was supposed to be, “Ms.… Internet.”

“Ms. Internet? I’ll take it,” Sombra quipped, and sipped from her drink. 

“So what have you been doing with yourself, Genji?” Fareeha asked, “are you working as Lucio’s bodyguard now?”

“Ah, no…” absolutely everyone could tell Genji was blushing despite no part of his skin being visible, “I’m actually traveling with him for, personal reasons.”

Fareeha grinned. “Shimada Genji, who was too nervous to speak when little Lena dragged him to the gay bar after sparring practice, dating that ball of charisma?”

“You know,” Genji chuckled, “I was quite the ball of charisma myself in my misspent youth.”

Fareeha laughed heartily, “Genji, that was  _ forty years ago! _ ”

“I am only thirty-five! Everyone seems old when you’re just a kid, though.” Genji was usually very reserved, but something about seeing a familiar face brought out the jokester in him. “And what of yourself? Are you and your companion…?” 

Fareeha did not quite understand her internal reaction to this, and couldn’t have articulated it if someone were paying her to do so. She looked to Sombra in the hope that she would offer a response, absolving her of the need to speak aloud, only to discover with dread that Sombra was looking to her for the same reason. 

After six seconds, and it’s important to note that this is not a figure of speech but a literal indicator of how much time had passed, Sombra finally stammered “she should be so lucky” and Fareeha managed to force a laugh. 

“...I see,” Genji replied, clearly less comfortable than he had ever been in a conversation with Fareeha. 

It was at this moment that Lucio entered the room. “So, the plan is th-- jeez, who died in here?”

“No one,” Sombra said, “Genji just made Fareeha notice how pretty I am and she froze up.”

It was now Fareeha’s turn to blush awkwardly. She finally took a sip of her drink, which was much fruitier than she’d expected it to be. 

“Funny, usually Genji’s the one who freezes,” Lucio said casually, somehow diffusing the tension. “So, here’s the plan. This was the final show of the synaesthesia tour, but later this week I’ve got a charity gig real close to the safehouse, set up by You-Know-Who.”

“Ian O?” Fareeha asked. 

“Ahh, you know more than I thought,” Lucio started, “usually our friends are a little more secretive than that.”

“You know how Zarya is with secrets,” Sombra insisted, “There’s a concert venue near the safehouse?”

“Nah, that’s the beauty of it,” Lucio grinned, “The concert venue  _ is  _ the safehouse. There’s a bunker underneath the stage that adventurers and heroes have been using for 150 years. Completely self-sustaining, locks from the inside, and every nuclear weapon on earth couldn’t get it open without the occupant opening the door. Once our whole group is inside, we can plan our next move in complete safety.”

“There’s a group now?” Fareeha asked. 

“There’s always been a group, keep up.” Sombra replied. 

“I’d love to,” Fareeha said, “but you need to tell me anything for me to keep up.”

“Is that not what’s happening right now?”

Fareeha sighed. She had never known someone so difficult, and she’d known Jack Morrison. 

“So, if you two are done,” Lucio continued, “we’re going to need a public reason for you two to be on my tour bus. I’d be willing to do the playboy act and just waltz up with one of you on each arm, but I’m pretty solidly on record that neither of you is, shall we say, my type.”

“I think I read about that in Attitude,” Sombra chided, “and if I’m being honest, I don’t think anyone would believe either of us was romantically linked with a man either.”

This piqued Fareeha’s interest. “Then why did you imply the hell out of that in the airport?”

“I was playing a character,” Sombra replied, “‘Jane’ is an advanced heterosexual looking to cheat on her fiance the week of her wedding. Sombra dresses like a synthpop album, which, you do the math.”

Lucio perked up at this. “You told her your name is ‘Shadow?’”

“Some of us don’t have the PR to be using our real names, Lucio!” Sombra replied nervously. 

“What is your name, really?” Fareeha asked.

Sombra shot her a look. “Private.”

Lucio opted not to reveal that he’d called her by her real name earlier in the conversation. 

“So,” Sombra began, trying to deflect the attention of the group’s numerous personal questions, “if we aren’t gonna be your arm candy, how do we justify traveling with you on tour?”

“Either of you got any musical talent?” Lucio offered, “I feature up-and-coming artists all the time, if you can sing or play an instrument, my hair and makeup people can have you beyond recognition in an hour.”

Fareeha shrugged anxiously. “Singing isn't my strong suit, but I play a mean guitar.”

“That’s perfect,” Sombra said, “I have a beautiful voice.”

“Great,” Lucio said. “We have three days until the gig. You can figure out a number you both know and I’ll bring you out at the end. After the show, we’ll have to hustle into the safehouse.”

“And the crowd of adoring fans around back waiting for you to emerge?” Fareeha asked. “They’re sure to notice when you stay in the venue for days on end.”

“My security team knows that sometimes Genji and I like to go around a city incognito after a gig. When I do that, they throw a cloth over a mannequin and rush it to my tour bus, then drive away. I’ll tell them me and Genji want a night to ourselves, and as far as anyone else knows, I’ll be on a plane back to Rio that night.”

Fareeha nodded. “Genji, will you be joining us onstage?”

Genji shook his head politely. “Ms. Amari, I prefer to stay in the shadows when possible. Old habits, I suppose. I will be working crew for the performance.”

“Mm, at least you’ll get to wear black.”

“You ready to head out?” Lucio asked. “I gotta warn you, the bus is a bit cramped. You might have to double up.”

Fareeha sighed. “Guess that makes three nights in a row.”

 

That night, Sombra and Fareeha were cramped into what could only nominally be described as a bed. Fareeha was laying on her side facing the wall, and, despite being easily half a foot shorter than her, Sombra was curled against Fareeha’s back, with one arm around her waist for balance-- and it was strictly for balance, as the slightest bump would send them both onto the floor. 

Neither of them was asleep, although the rest of the bus’ occupants, bar the omnic driver, were very audibly unconscious. Fareeha felt somewhat uneasy and, despite her previous frustration about her companion’s inability to shut up, she decided to invite her to talk. 

“Who are you, really?” Fareeha asked. 

“I’m sorry?” Sombra mumbled sleepily. 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Fareeha said thoughtfully. “I’ve been on the run with you for days now and I still don’t know the first thing about you.”

“You don’t need to know anything about me,” Sombra yawned, “it’s not like anyone else does.”

“You’re not asking anyone else to trust you, though,” Fareeha said. 

“Do you trust me?” Sombra replied. 

Fareeha considered the question. “I do,” she replied after a beat, “but if I’m being honest, I really have no idea why.”

“Do you want to?” Sombra asked. 

Fareeha didn’t reply. Sombra took this as a yes.

“You trust me because I’m one of the only honest people you’ll ever meet. Most people spend their lives hiding the uglier parts of themselves and making up beautiful parts to show the world. You have a good ear for honesty, I can tell, and I’ve been nothing but honest with you since we met. You’ve known what danger you’re in and why, you’ve been told every plan I’ve had along the way, and--”

“I don’t even know your name,” Fareeha replied somewhat indignantly.

“And yet, you know exactly who I am. I don’t hide it. What difference does it make whether my name is Sombra or Jane or HAL-fred fucking Glitchbot?”

“I guess it just begs the question,” Fareeha asked quietly, “do  _ you _ trust  _ me? _ ”

“Excuse me?” Sombra asked incredulously. 

“You’ve asked so much trust of me and for whatever reason, I’ve given it to you,” Fareeha explained, “but you can’t even trust me with something you claim doesn’t even make a difference?”

Sombra fell silent. “You want to know who I am?”

“Please,” Fareeha said softly.

“I’m no one,” Sombra replied, “and I’m not just being glib. Everyone I ever knew before I became Sombra died when I was just a little girl.”

“Your parents,” Fareeha said, “they died in the crisis.”

“Yeah. Totally original story, right?” Sombra feigned levity, but it didn’t work. “And I fell down a pretty rough path. Lucio here? That’s who I should’ve been. I made all the wrong choices along the way and now look at me.”

“Yeah, look at you now,” Fareeha said sarcastically, “on the bus of a bonafide goody-two-shoes, on your way to bring down a power-hungry terrorist bent on world-domination.”

Sombra had no reply to this. 

“You want to protect the innocent, like me,” Fareeha said, “because when you were the innocent, you didn’t have anybody to protect you.”

“I guess you could say that,” Sombra sighed. 

“So, who’s that to you now?” Fareeha asked. “I mean, you seem like a bit of a cynic, but I could tell someone popped into your head when I said ‘the innocent.’”

Sombra smiled. “Little girl back home, name of Alejandra. Like a little sister to me, honestly. Nobody on earth I trust like her. One of the brightest, sweetest kids on the planet, even if her taste in heroes is shit.”

Fareeha chuckled. “Morrison?”

“Mm,” Sombra replied. “But I need to know that she’s growing up in a better world than I did, and that means I can’t let Maximilien’s plan go through.”

“And what about you?” Fareeha asked. “I mean, the world isn’t perfect now, but it’s surely gotten better since we were children. When this is all over, is there anything you want for yourself?”

“All I want is to feel like all I’ve got didn’t cost me everything.” Sombra yawned again. “Even if we never win.”

Fareeha moved her hand down to Sombra’s and Sombra reflexively laced her fingers into Fareeha’s. Fareeha’s hands were a lot warmer than she’d expected, but she wasn’t about to complain about that.

They sat in silence like this for a couple of minutes, listening to the hum of the bus’ hover-servos pushing them along the highway. 

“Fareeha?” Sombra asked. 

“Yes?” Fareeha replied. 

“You still awake?”

Fareeha gave her a moment to reflect on what she just asked before pointing it out. “Would I have said yes if I wasn’t?”

Sombra smiled and shook slightly from nerves. “Olivia.”

“Mm,” Fareeha said, and gave her hand a light squeeze. “Pretty name.”

“Don’t ask me for my last name or I swear to god I’ll pull us both onto the floor.”

“Mm,” Fareeha replied again, beginning to drift off. 

“I mean, buy a girl dinner first.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Fareeha yawned. Within five minutes they were both sleeping more comfortably than they had in three days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of Sombra's monologue is a quote from the Metric song that gave this fic its name. See if you can find which one!


	4. With A Hitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is insane,” Fareeha whispered. Lucio’s hair and makeup team had finished with her and she was now looking at a stranger’s face in the mirror. “This plan is insane.”
> 
> “Relax, you look great,” Sombra replied, “The whole rock and roll aesthetic is perfect for you. I’m not so thrilled with what they gave me, but I’m a little more used to being in disguise.”

“This is insane,” Fareeha whispered. Lucio’s hair and makeup team had finished with her and she was now looking at a stranger’s face in the mirror. “This plan is insane.”

“Relax, you look great,” Sombra replied, “The whole rock and roll aesthetic is perfect for you. I’m not so thrilled with what they gave me, but I’m a little more used to being in disguise.”

Sombra wasn’t wrong. Her hair was teased out to an almost comical degree and now stuck out of a bright yellow bandana tied around her forehead. Her eyes, and more importantly, her very easily distinguishable tattoo, were hidden completely behind mirrored aviator sunglasses. She wore clothes she never would’ve thought to pick herself-- loose, stylishly tattered jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket with nothing underneath but an electric blue sports bra underneath it.

Fareeha said exasperatedly, “Who picked this outfit?”

“I did,” Sombra smirked, “trust me, every girl in that audience is going to have a hard time tearing their eyes away from you.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be keeping people from looking at us?” Fareeha replied.

“Ordinarily, yes,” Sombra explained, “but when you’re a featured performer at a sold-out concert, trust me, it’ll be more conspicuous if you don’t make an impression.”

“I look like a cologne ad directed by the Ramones,” Fareeha sighed.

“Who?” Sombra replied as the makeup artist put the final touches on her. “Ah, I owe you an apology, Francesca, this looks much better than I was expecting. See, I got a coworker who dresses like this and, well, let’s just say she’s mentioned by name four separate times in the employee code of conduct.”

Sombra was wearing a low-cut blue bodysuit constructed entirely of sequins and platform shoes that still didn’t manage to bring her shoulder-level with Fareeha. Her cranial implants were hidden under a powder blue wig that ended about two inches above the shoulder, and there was a pretty conspicuous lightning bolt painted across her face.

“Well?” Sombra asked, “How do I look?”

“Aladdin insane,” Fareeha chuckled, “why didn’t I get to pick your outfit?”

“Because I know the key code to Lucio’s wardrobe trailer and you don’t,” Sombra smiled back. She looked Fareeha up and down in the outfit she’d chosen for her, and commented, “you should really consider making this look permanent, it’s gonna be hard for anyone to get you out of their mind.”

“And again I ask, how is that not a bad thing, when we’re undercover?”

Sombra sighed. “Do you ever wonder why nobody ever asks why nobody’s ever seen Bruce Wayne and Batman in the same room?”

“What?” Fareeha was taken aback.

“It’s the same reason they never ask why nobody ever saw Batman in the same room as Reinhardt Wilhelm. Unless you’ve read the comic books that tell you ‘Bruce Wayne is Batman,’ you’d have no reason to connect those two dots. It makes total sense for them to be the same person but it’s one of those questions that only occurs to people who already know the answer.”

“So you’re saying that the only people who’d ask why up-and-coming rock guitarist Sarah Slaughter has the same basic build and skin tone as recently deceased security officer Fareeha Amari are people who already know we’re the same person?”

“Don’t overthink it, beautiful. When’s the last time you went to a concert and wondered whether the opening act was actually some dead famous person in disguise?” Sombra asked.   
Fareeha supposed this had never been the case.

“You ladies ready?” Lucio asked, “we got three thousand people out there expecting to see some magic.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Fareeha sighed.

Lucio looked at her outfit, then turned to Sombra. “Who keeps giving you the code?”

***

The Tower Theater was, as Lucio had indicated, packed to the gills. Evidently something about his music had very strongly resonated with the people of Philadelphia, because the event had sold out within seconds of the tickets being posted.

The plan was fairly straightforward. Fareeha and Olivia would take the stage in costume as “Sarah Slaughter and the Glam Gal,” a new musical duo Lucio had discovered and was promoting. He would stand and visibly admire their performance from his turntables. They would perform exactly one song-- a cover of an existing song, in order to avoid anybody discovering that their hit single did not exist-- at which point Lucio would ask the crowd to make some noise. They would take a bow and excuse themselves to the backstage area, where they could discreetly enter the hidden entrance to the Tower Bunker.

This plan did not go off without a hitch. In fact, the first hitch showed up about three-quarters of the way through their song.

“ _I got a rock and roll band_ ,” Sombra belted from the stage as Pharah practically lost herself in her theatrical guitar performance, “ _I got a rock and roll life! I got a rock and roll girlfriend, and another ex-wife!! I got a rock and--_ ”

Sombra’s mic and Fareeha’s amplifier suddenly cut out as the plan caught its primary hitch and a high-pitched, grating voice filled the arena.

“LUCIO SANTOS!” The voice called out, “JUST GOT A CALL FROM THE FIREY AND THEY SAID TO STOP THIS CONCERT RIGHT NOW OR ELSE IT’S GONNA BLOW THE ROOF OFF!” The performers and the audience looked up to see a man who looked something like an on-fire weasel who’d recently decided to pursue methamphetamines as a hobby cackling wildly on the catwalk while brandishing a grenade launcher with wild abandon. The audience screamed and many of them made for the emergency exits, but it was a slow process with so many people.

“Not this guy,” Sombra muttered into her headset, hoping Lucio and Fareeha could still hear her through it. “Lucio, you’re on Maximilien’s hit-list too. Now that I’m ‘dead,’ he must’ve turned to outside contractors to do his dirty work. This junkrat is trying to get to you before you get to the bunker.”

“On it,” Lucio said back into his own headset. “Security, get the civilians out of this stadium. Genji, take care of our guest.”

“Very well,” Genji replied.

“YOU KNOW,” Junkrat called out from the rafters, now unloading grenades freely onto the stage as the performers dove for cover behind various instruments, “WHEN I GOT THIS JOB OFFER I ALMOST SPIT IN THE GUY’S FACE. A TIN CAN AND A SUIT? I GOT A REPUTATION TO UPHOLD HERE! BUT HE GAVE ME ABOUT 200 MILLION REASONS TO SEE THINGS HIS WAY.”

“Genji, wait!” Fareeha urged into her own headset. “We had files on this guy at Helix. You need to take him down alive. This freak actually had his body booby-trapped, if he dies, the explosion will take down that catwalk and anyone under it.”

“Understood,” Genji replied, and Fareeha thought she saw a glint of green from somewhere on the catwalks.

“IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL, MATE,” Junkrat continued his monologue, “BUT A MAN’S GOTTA EAT, AND THE MONEY FROM THIS JOB WILL EVEN FILL MY FRIEND’S STOMACH!”

It was at this point that Genji managed to silently sneak up on Junkrat and land several shuriken in the back of his knee. Junkrat let out a yelp of pain and Genji dashed in to grab him, but suddenly felt a large hook catch around his waist and pull him backwards.

The wind was knocked out of him so fast he couldn’t move, and the chain yanking him back twisted him to face his assailant. It was an absolute mountain of a man, covered head to toe in tattoos and engine grease, and his face concealed behind a soulless leather pig mask. Genji stared down the barrel of the man’s sawed-off shotgun and knew it was too late to dodge or deflect this shot. He closed his eyes and took what he believed to be his last breath.

The man-mountain, however, suddenly collapsed onto the catwalk, unconscious. Genji opened his eyes and saw another masked figure, this one shrouded in rags and holding a rifle, standing over the man-mountain’s now tranquil body.

“Tell Lucio his security team needs some practice,” the Shrike said casually, “they can’t even keep an old lady from wandering onto the catwalks.”  
With Junkrat and his bodyguard incapacitated, Lucio’s security team was able to evacuate all 3000 guests from the venue, and offer them full refunds and autographed merchandise as an apology for the night’s events.

Local law enforcement was contacted, but by the time they would arrive, there would be nothing they could do to punish Junkrat.

***

Fareeha was stunned at the sight of the Shrike arriving backstage. The Shrike, however, simply looked Fareeha up and down and said “I don’t approve. I’ll explain later. We’ve got too many questions to ask and not enough time to ask them.”

Junkrat and Roadhog were, at this point, each tied to a chair. Roadhog was tied up using his own chain, to a chair that was bolted to the floor, on the understanding that if he awoke, he would be less likely to be able to break out of this. Junkrat was a bit easier to restrain, and awoke first.

“Who told you?” Shrike asked sternly.

“I’m not telling you a damn thing,” Junkrat replied.

“The bunker,” Shrike tapped her foot. “Tell me who told your boss its location or my friend will see to it your legs match. Talk.”

“Fuck you,” Junkrat said flippantly. “The only question I asked is How Much Does It Pay, and that’s the only answer I got.”

“Odds he’s telling the truth?” Sombra asked.

Luckily, the Shrike’s visor was monitoring his vitals, and she was able to detect any fluctuations that would indicate deception. “Very high, I’m afraid. Either he’s telling the truth, or he’s too dumb to realize he’s lying.”

Junkrat scowled.

“Well, isn’t that a shame?” Sombra asked in a sing-song voice, toying with Roadhog’s scrap-gun. “See, if you knew something, we’d have some reason to keep you alive. But if you don’t want to talk to us--”

Junkrat glanced over at Roadhog and realized that he was, in fact, unconscious, and unable to do anything to protect him. He looked somewhat panicked. “You gotta believe me, I don’t know anything, really! I don’t even know why the tin can wanted this guy blown up, I just wanted the payday! I’d tell ya if I knew, I swear! All he told me is that I had to take care of the DJ before he left Philly or else it’d be too late.”

Sombra glanced at the Shrike, who sighed and indicated he was telling the truth.

“Oh well,” Sombra shrugged. At first, she seemed to examine her nails, but quickly streams of purple light emerged from her fingertips and flew towards Junkrat’s body. She twitched her hand as though typing on an unseen keyboard, and several roundish objects began to glow purple within Junkrat’s torso. She then wandered over and unhooked Roadhog’s chain and, without warning, she then turned Roadhog’s scrap gun on Junkrat and pulled the trigger, separating his head from the rest of his body. The bombs in his chest conspicuously did not detonate.

This noise was enough to partially rouse Roadhog, who looked blearily towards his now-deceased employer, clearly dead by his own weapon, and opted to assess the situation before simply murdering everyone in sight until it became clear.

“Your charge is dead,” Sombra said, tossing his now-empty gun to the floor in front of him. “Lucio is beyond your reach. You won’t find any more cash here, and in less than 20 minutes the police will arrive. You’re a known murderer with gunshot residue on your hands and your prints on the murder weapon, a gun you built yourself. I suggest you get as far away from here as you can in the next 20 minutes if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life under state supervision.”

Roadhog looked at Junkrat’s lifeless body. “Just as well,” he growled, stumbled to his feet, and ambled towards the door.

***

Sombra, Fareeha, Genji, and the Shrike made their way backstage to the bunker entrance and signaled for Lucio to let them in.   
Fareeha was a bit uneasy with what she’d just seen. “That was a bit cold,” she said sheepishly.

“In 2075 he blew up an elementary school with the children inside because someone cut him off in traffic with a bumper sticker that said their child was an honors student there,” Sombra said flatly, “if anything, I was far too humane.”

“We still have no idea who told Maximilien the location of the bunker,” Genji offered up. 

“We don’t know he knows where the bunker actually is,” Fareeha supposed, “we just know he knew it was Lucio’s last public appearance before going underground. The only way an informant could’ve known that is if Lucio had told them, and the only way to know the actual location of the bunker is to be brought into it, and Lucio said no communications can escape it.”

“So the informant must’ve been someone like us, going into hiding in the bunker,” Sombra replied.

“Yes, and that means…” Fareeha trailed off.

“If Maximilien doesn’t know where the actual bunker is, they must still be inside,” the Shrike said dejectedly. “One of the people inside this bunker is a traitor.”


	5. Why We're Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you see me comin', better step aside  
> A lot of men didn't, a lot of men died  
> One fist of iron, the other of steel  
> If the right one don't get you, then the left one will
> 
> You load sixteen tons, what do you get?  
> Another day older and deeper in debt  
> Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go  
> I owe my soul to the company store

Lucio greeted Genji with a largely symbolic kiss on the visor, then turned to Fareeha and Sombra. “Welcome to the Tower Bunker, ladies! Make yourselves comfortable, we’re in for a long weekend.”

Shrike, now safely in the bunker, removed her visor and looked sternly at Fareeha. “You could’ve told me you were alive.”

Fareeha sighed, “we could go toe to toe on that one, mom.”

“We’ll discuss it later. For now, I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Lucio beckoned them down a long, oppressively gray corridor. Fareeha asked him, “Lucio, is there any chance you brought any other clothes down here? I don’t know how much longer I can wear this outfit.”

“I got you,” Lucio said. “Now, there’s a bunch of us here so we’re running a bit low on space. We’ve got three bunks to a room, two people to a bunk. There’s bathrooms and shower facilities, a kitchenette, and a fully stocked wardrobe, but unfortunately nothing too flashy.”

Fareeha looked down at what she was wearing. “That… shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I still think the girls in the audience are gonna have a hard time forgetting your performance,” Sombra muttered. 

“My performance was the whole concert,” Fareeha said, “after ten minutes a crazy person showed up and tried to assassinate the headliner.”

“That should tell you something about how memorable that look is,” Sombra smiled. 

“That actually presents another logistical issue,” Lucio explained, “The Tower Theater is now a crime scene. Now, when occupied, the bunker is completely undetectable and inaccessible unless someone opens it from the inside. The problem is, our benefactor isn’t here yet. The Tower is going to be crawling with police, they can’t use that entrance.”

“It’s worse than that,” Sombra said, “we have reason to believe Maximilien has an informant in the bunker. If that person knows when our benefactor is scheduled to arrive, Maximilien might be able to intercept them.”

“I will go,” Genji said, “I know their location and can ensure they arrive safely.”

“I’m sorry to ask this, Genji,” Fareeha asked, “but how do we know you’re not Maximilien’s informant? Nobody in the bunker can be allowed to leave until we’ve exposed them.”

Lucio put this line of reasoning to bed very quickly. “Genji and I have used the bunker before. He knows where it is and how to access it, so if he was the informant, Maximilien’s hit-squad would’ve been waiting for us inside when we got here. I’d trust him with my life.”

Genji placed his hand on Lucio’s shoulder in thanks. “No harm will befall them,” he said, and then seemed to disappear before anyone could get a glance at where he’d gone. 

They arrived at the end of the corridor and saw a room full of people who looked simply unnatural in jeans and plain black t-shirts.   
Fareeha knew some of them personally, she was relieved to see Jesse McCree doing coin tricks with his bionic hand in a corner while Dr. Ziegler watched intently. Dr. Winston and Dr. Zhou greeted her with wide smiles and tight hugs. There were others she’d never met personally, like Hana Song, the movie star, and Tekhartha Zenyatta, the spiritual leader. Brigitte Lindholm, a woman Fareeha knew quite well, was frying an impressive number of pierogies in the kitchenette which filled the air with the scent of garlic and butter. 

“Now,” Lucio explained, “you’re going to be staying with a few close friends of mine, but I have to warn you, you’re also staying with… her…”

“Who’s ‘her?’” Sombra asked.

Lucio tensed up, “You’ll see.” He showed them to their room, a stark white room with three bunks and two dressers with stickers on each drawer indicating the size of the clothing inside. 

One the bunk to the left sat two women almost obnoxiously piled atop one another, watching a movie on a small tablet. They didn’t seem to notice Fareeha at first, but she immediately recognized the dark-haired woman as Lena Oxton, an overwatch agent who Fareeha had been something of a mentor figure towards through the process of coming out of the closet. They’d kept in contact over the years, and Fareeha assumed the red-haired woman she was tangled up with was her wife, Emily. On the right side, there was only one woman, sitting prim and proper on the edge of the bed and reading a book. Fareeha did not recognize her, and assumed her bunkmate was elsewhere.

“Lena!” Fareeha exclaimed, and threw her arms open. 

“Fareeha!!!” Lena exclaimed back, tossing the tablet aside and standing up for a hug, before seeing Fareeha’s outfit and suddenly freezing up, blushing bright red. This caused Emily, who’d been looking at Lena at the time, to also turn her head to Fareeha and immediately had more or less the same reaction. Despite this, they did manage to untangle themselves from their heap and greet Fareeha with a hug. 

“I’m so glad you made it! We heard about your death on the news and we just couldn’t believe it!” Lena said, squeezing Fareeha tightly. 

“At least Anubis managed to take out that horrible criminal when he went down.”

Sombra winced. 

“This is my wife, Emily,” Tracer said, gesturing proudly. 

“Charmed,” Fareeha replied taking Emily’s hand and planting a kiss on the back. 

“And who’s your friend?” Tracer asked. 

“This is--” Fareeha started, but Sombra cut her off. 

“Horrible criminal,” Sombra said, offering Tracer a handshake, which Tracer declined, “we’ve met.”

Fareeha suddenly felt a pang of guilt. “Lena, this is… She’s the reason I made it here alive. She and Lucio have been working together to smuggle us all to this bunker.”

Lena’s eyes widened and then, unexpectedly, she embraced Sombra. 

Sombra did not know how to react to this. 

“I’ve misjudged you,” Lena whispered, “thank you for keeping my friend safe.”

Sombra was stunned and nobody quite knew how to break the silence. 

Luckily, there was someone else in the room, who took this opportunity to assert herself into the conversation. “I am trying to read.”

The four women turned to her. “How rude of us,” Tracer sneered, “allow me to introduce our roommate.”

“Satya Vaswani, Archi--” she started, but quickly changed course. “Former Architech at the Vishkar corporation.”

“Surprised they let you out of your contract,” Sombra said casually, rifling through the drawer marked Small for a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, “Vishkar isn’t exactly known for its equitable labor practices.”

Satya aggressively continued reading her book without responding. 

“If I had to guess,” Sombra continued, “she discovered her handler Sanjay was working for Talon.”

Satya still acted as though she was reading her book even though her eyes were clenched shut. 

“I’d imagine she’s on the run, just like us,” Sombra continued, “probably smart. Her name’s on Maximilien’s hit-list right under Sanjay’s, and last I heard, he was found dead two days ago.”

This broke Satya’s feigned focus on her book. “Sanjay is dead?”

“Sniper shot,” Sombra explained, “handiwork of an old colleague of mine. Took one between the eyes, he never knew what hit him. About time she actually landed a shot. I’m sorry for your loss, though.”

“No great loss,” Satya replied, “I wanted to build a better, more orderly world, and he betrayed everything we stood for. I will mourn for the man he should have been, but I feel no grief for the man he was.”

There were two seconds of silence before Emily finally broke it. “Literally everything she says is like that.”

“I like her,” Sombra said, “the whole Ice Queen thing really does it for me.”

Fareeha looked perplexed. “It does?”

Sombra looked knowingly at Fareeha and shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve got a type.”

“I could no longer work for Vishkar knowing what I know,” Satya explained, “I ran from our facility and was being pursued by an army of Talon Troopers when I encountered your associate Mr. Santos. We have a complicated history, but he was offering to help me escape my pursuers and I was in no position to turn down an ally. I still don’t like him, but I appreciate what he did for me. Now, I hope that answers any frivolous follow-up questions you might have so that I can finish my book.”

Everyone decided it would be best to allow her to keep reading. 

“Lena and I came here with Winston,” Emily said, “we’re lucky our benefactor was able to get in contact with him first, he was able to use the overwatch emergency recall channel to contact all the trustworthy agents.”

“Winston’s a good man,” Fareeha said, “I almost suspected he was the one putting this all together.”

“He got us, Reinhardt and Brigitte, Mei, and a couple members of the old overwatch brass here,” Lena said, “We’re still waiting on your mum.”

“Oh, she’s here now,” Fareeha said. “She never missed one of my guitar recitals and I guess she didn’t want to break that streak.”  
This made Lena laugh.

“Hey, I gotta ask,” Sombra said, “was that Hana Song in the kitchenette? Do you think she’d be willing to take a selfie with us?”

“She will practically insist upon it,” Satya offered up in a tone of voice that indicated she did not intend her role in the conversation to be an ongoing phenomenon. “She and I have been bunkmates these past few days. I suggest you try and sleep now because you will be unable to once she arrives.”

Sombra and Fareeha managed to locate clothes in their size. Fareeha began looking for a more private area to change in, but Sombra simply went for the gusto and dropped her bodysuit to the floor so that she could slip on her jeans and tee. Lena and Emily seemed too focused on each other to notice, and Satya cast only the briefest admiring glance upwards before returning to her book. Fareeha initially blushed and averted her eyes, but noticed the intricate cybernetic implants woven into the warm brown skin on Olivia’s back. She had wondered how it was possible that Sombra could seemingly control machines as though they were an extension of her body, and she now no longer had to wonder. Her eyes were transfixed on the violet lights running along the contours of her shoulder blades as Sombra pulled the black t-shirt down over top of them. 

It was at this point that Fareeha noticed that Sombra was watching her. Sombra winked, and Fareeha turned bright red and excused herself to change in a nearby restroom. 

***

Once they were successfully changed, Fareeha went out into the common area, where she was greeted by Hana Song, who was listening intently to Dr. Zhou’s description of an expedition she’d recently taken to the Galapagos.

“...and we’ve really come a long way!” Dr. Zhou explained, “our efforts have almost restored the tortoise population to where they were in the sixteenth century! A quarter million tortoises and counting!”

Hana was beaming. “That’s so cute! I hope I get to go on adventures like that someday!”

“Sounds like Dr. Zhou would be lucky to have you for an assistant,” Fareeha said, offering a handshake. “Fareeha Amari, I’m a big fan.”  
Hana responded with a large hug. “Pleasure to meet you, Fareeha! I’ve heard a lot about you from Tracer!”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Fareeha explained, “I would think the Korean military would’ve been able to protect you from Maximilien.”

“Oh, I’m not with MEKA anymore,” Hana replied. “Not since what happened at Blizzcon.”

Fareeha was taken aback. “Talon tried to bring down the convention center during your keynote and you stopped them. You saved thousands of lives that day.”

“That’s how I’d have put it!” Hana explained, “but according to the MEKA brass, it was an ‘unsanctioned use of military equipment.’ I told them if they wanted me to sit on the sidelines while innocent people got hurt, I couldn’t work for them anymore. They took away my mech, but I’ve got some of the engineers here designing me a new one.”

“Winston and Brigitte have some beautiful designs!” Mei smiled. 

“They should talk to your bunkmate, her hard-light abilities could probably save some money on materials,” Fareeha suggested.   
Hana smiled wide. “Have you met her? She’s sooo elegant, if she built me a mech I would just die!”  
Fareeha was suddenly thrilled at the prospect of getting to see this incredibly earnest and high-energy young woman share a space with the calm, collected Satya. 

Brigitte announced that the pierogies were just about finished and called everyone into the common area for supper. Fareeha supposed not everyone would come out right away, it was close to 2 AM and some of the older inhabitants of the bunker had already retired to bed for the evening, but her new roommates all did, and sat around her at the table. Sombra took the seat directly next to her, and Pharah felt a chill as their thighs touched under the table. 

“Does anyone want to say grace before we eat?” Dr. Ziegler asked the room. 

“Grace,” McCree replied, and popped a pierogi into his mouth long before they were cool enough to safely do so. 

The women seated around the table began to chat idly about their careers and hobbies. Hana talked at length about the plot of the recently-released Starcraft III, Mei described how her team’s scientific efforts had actually managed to lower sea levels several inches, and even Satya gave a brief description of how her childhood love of dancing had radically reshaped the practice of hard-light architecture. 

At some point in the meal, Fareeha felt an excited chill shoot up her spine as she felt Sombra’s right hand land on her knee. She considered the possibility that Sombra had done so mistakenly and meant to put her hand on her own leg, but made no move to correct the mistake.

Fareeha looked over at Sombra who seemed to be intently paying attention to Lena’s story about a recent vacation. “...we spent the whole week in Ilios and I swear it’s like they’ve got a whole different sun there!”

“Not that we saw much sunlight,” Emily laughed, “I’d say we spent about half the week in our room!”

“Emily!” Tracer gasped, feigning being scandalized. 

Sombra moved her hand up a few inches and Fareeha felt a rush. She once again considered this may have been inadvertent, but it was getting more difficult to dismiss. Sombra gave her thigh a very obviously deliberate squeeze, and Fareeha was sure this was not some mix-up. This was a very clear move, and as unlikely as it would have seemed to her a week previously, Fareeha found herself desperate to reciprocate. 

Following dinner, the group moved into a lounge area where Fareeha and Olivia shared a large beanbag chair. McCree, taking full advantage of being underneath a famous concert venue, had managed to bring a guitar underground and began plucking out a tune as Brigitte attempted to operate the “flame free fireplace” Winston had invented to keep them warm in the cold bunker. 

McCree began to sing in his low baritone, and old coal miner’s song he’d picked up from someone he’d known in the deadlock gang. “They say that a man is made out of mud. Really that man’s just muscle and blood. Muscle and blood, skin and bone…”

At this point, Lucio, gesturing with a glass of red wine, joined in, “...a mind that’s weak and a back that’s strong.”

McCree smiled, glad to have someone to sing with. They continued singing together: “you load sixteen tons, and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. Saint Peter, don’t you call me, ‘cause I can’t go. I owe my soul to the company store.”

The group listened as the two men finished singing out the old labor dirge, and Fareeha took the opportunity to put her arm around Olivia’s shoulder. It was not particularly smooth, but Olivia found this rather endearing. At the end, McCree let out a laugh. “Now, where’s a guy like you learn a song like that?”

“My father used to sing it,” said Lucio, now moderately wine-tipsy. He shot a somewhat spiteful look at Satya, “Every day after work.”  
Lucio took the guitar and started to play his own tune, something a bit more cheerful. From the sound of it, this song was also over a century old, and the lyrics of Sergio Mendes’ “Mas Que Nada” in Lucio’s smooth tenor seemed to warm everybody in the room. 

With all eyes on Lucio, Olivia took the opportunity to give Fareeha a soft kiss on the neck, and pulled herself so close to Fareeha that if she was any closer she’d be sitting on her lap. Fareeha felt another rush and knew this was a moment she would never be able to forget, although she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to. Olivia pulled a nearby blanket on top of them and soon they were bundled as tightly as Tracer and Emily. Fareeha now had both arms wrapped tightly around Olivia and wished this moment could last forever. Fareeha could feel her heart racing, and clearly Olivia could feel it as well, because she was committed to doing whatever she could to make it race faster. 

Olivia finally found Fareeha’s limit with a single soft caress, invisible to anyone else in the room, that sent ice rushing through Fareeha’s veins. 

Fareeha whispered as quietly as possible, “do you want to find somewhere more private?”

Olivia smiled broadly, “I thought you’d never ask.”


	6. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, are we going to talk about what just happened?” Fareeha asked. 
> 
> “To just about anyone who’ll listen,” Olivia replied. “Have you seen yourself? I’ve got some people I went to high school with I need to call about it.”

Olivia stared admiringly at Fareeha from the small tile bench in the shower, the only place in the entire bunker they could be sure to be left alone. Fareeha was facing away from her, but she found herself unable to tear her eyes from the magnificent woman currently toweling herself off three feet away. She was tall and lean and moved gracefully and efficiently. To Sombra’s surprise, her back was covered in tattoos, symbols that Olivia was sure held some deep meaning that she resolved to ask Fareeha at some point down the line. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Olivia said playfully, “but in another life, you would’ve been an amazing conman.”

“How do you figure?” Fareeha chuckled. 

“I’ve come up with some frankly outlandish plans these past few days, and every time, you’ve had the exact same concern: Can we pull it off?” Sombra explained, “and as soon as that’s established, you give it your all and you roll with the punches. You think on your feet, when somebody sets you up, you take your shot.”

Fareeha laughed, “okay, now YOU don’t take this the wrong way, but in another life? You would’ve made an amazing intelligence agent. You understand social engineering on such a fundamental level that I don’t think there’s a facility on earth you couldn’t talk your way into.”

Olivia laughed as well. 

“So, are we going to talk about what just happened?” Fareeha asked. 

“To just about anyone who’ll listen,” Olivia replied. “Have you seen yourself? I’ve got some people I went to high school with I need to call about it.”

“I’m being serious!” Fareeha said. “I mean, neither of our lives is exactly in its usual place right now, I’m sure we’re both feeling pretty vulnerable, I just want to be clear on… what this is, you know?”

“What could it be?” Olivia asked. “I mean, other than one of the top five showers of my life.”

“I mean, is it-- wait, what are the other four?” Fareeha asked. “Nevermind, we’ll circle back to that. Is this just…” 

Fareeha paused and Olivia sensed some genuine sadness in the air between them. “What?”

“Is this just something we’re doing because we’re both stressed out and life keeps making us share a bed, or is this the start of something real?” Fareeha asked. “When this is all over, what will you and I be to one another?”

Olivia considered this for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

Fareeha sighed. “What do YOU want us to be?”

The question hung in the air much in the way a half-deflated balloon from a long-disbanded birthday party might. 

“It sounds like,” Olivia chose her words carefully, “that both of our answers are contingent on what the other wants.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“In a pretty good position, I’d say. I think we get to decide what we want from this together.” Olivia walked over and wrapped her arms around Fareeha’s waist. “If I said we were just blowing off steam, would that make you happy?”

Fareeha thought about it. “Well, we certainly did a good job, if that was the case.”

“And if I said I had genuine feelings for you and that I want to pursue this?”

Fareeha smiled at the thought. 

“I think what we both want is clear,” Olivia said. “I don’t think any of us will be going back to the way things were after this is all over. We get to write the rest of this book ourselves, and I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t give it a shot.”

“I’d like that,” Fareeha sighed. 

“You know,” Olivia said seriously, “we’ve only been dating about five minutes and I think you’re already the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in.”

Fareeha looked perplexed at this. 

“I mean, none of my other girlfriends knew my real name.”

This caused Fareeha to burst out laughing, which almost caused their romance to come to a quick and tragic end as she almost lost her balance on the slick tile floor of the shower, with Olivia still wrapped around her waist. The majority of household accidents are, of course, bathroom-related, and while the sample space isn’t large enough to say the same of bunker accidents with any degree of confidence, one can safely assume that the bathroom of a bunker is likely not MORE safe than one in any given household. 

When she finished laughing, Fareeha turned to face Olivia and pulled her close. Olivia, who was easily seven inches shorter than Fareeha, found such embraces to be highly comfortable. 

“You know,” Fareeha explained, “we might have a problem here.”

“What’s that?” Olivia asked. 

“We’re going to be in close quarters for a while,” Fareeha gave her a particularly tight squeeze, “and I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my hands off of you.”

Olivia stretched up as close to Fareeha’s face as she could reach. “Then don’t.”

Fareeha kissed Olivia deeply and passionately, and within a few minutes they were right back where they’d started. By the end of this encounter, Olivia felt every knot of tension in her muscles relax, every ounce of stress leave her body through Fareeha’s lips. Olivia had always believed herself to be gifted in this department, but Fareeha was an absolute prodigy. As they dressed, Olivia almost wanted to sing, and as they made their way to the door, she felt like she was floating. 

***

The world outside the door, however, was not quite so dreamlike. Hana, with a towel slung over her shoulder and a scowl carved across her face, rushed in past them. “You guys have been in there for HOURS. You know the six of us have to SHARE this bathroom, right?”

Hana slammed the door behind us and Fareeha and Sombra scanned the hallway to make sure they hadn’t kept anyone else waiting. Satya, who had fashioned herself a chair out of hard-light and was once again reading a book, was the only person in sight. 

“I trust you found your rendezvous pleasurable,” she said, “Only me and the girl came to the door. Everyone else thinks you two went to bed, although I suppose, in a way, you did.”

Fareeha blushed profusely. 

“I don’t think she noticed anything from out here, but I have a much more acute sense of hearing,” Satya said, and now it was Olivia who turned bright red. Satya took a card from the lining of her book and handed it to the pair of them. “You’re both very attractive women and I promise you’d get a positive response if you ever chose to use this card. When this is all over, if we’re all still alive, maybe we can set something up.”

Fareeha and Olivia’s jaws dropped. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve reached a very interesting chapter in my book and I’ve been waiting some time for the shower, so I don’t want to waste any time after Ms. Song makes her exit.”

Fareeha and Olivia, still somewhat awestruck at the proposition they’d just received, quietly walked down the hallway towards their quarters. 

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation so early in our relationship, but, if she doesn’t turn out to be the informant--” Olivia started.

Fareeha held up the business card and pointed at it, still in disbelief. “Obviously we’re going to have to.”

“As long as we’re on the same page.”

*** 

They arrived in their shared quarters to find Lena and Emily once again curled up in a ball on their bed watching some movie. They were almost sickeningly cute together. 

“Mind if we join?” Fareeha asked. 

“The more the merrier!” Tracer said. “Have you seen this one?”

Fareeha looked at the screen. It was an incredibly violent action film, 50 or 60 years old. “Oh, this one’s a classic! Oli-- Sombra, have you seen it?”

Sombra glanced at the title. “Never heard of it. Any good?”

“Oh, the best!” Lena gushed, “It’s about a former mob hitman who-- Actually, Emily, love, we’re not very far into it, do you mind starting over? I think I got off on the wrong foot with Fareeha’s, ahem, friend, and I think showing her one of my favorite movies will make a better first impression.”

Emily smiled. “We’ve watched this movie four times this week. What makes you think I’d object to watching it over again?”

Emily began the process of restarting the film and connecting the tablet to a pocket projector so they could all watch together more easily, and Lena turned to Fareeha and said, “big day tomorrow. Our mysterious benefactor is getting here. Doesn’t it remind you of the old days?”

“I was never an Overwatch agent, remember?” Fareeha asked. 

“But you knew them! I remember the night before my first day on the job, I was so nervous to meet the old guard, I didn’t think I’d make it through.”

“You did though! I’ve never seen a more nervous 16-year-old, but by the end of the day it was like you were all old friends.” Fareeha replied. 

“You know that was because of you, right?” Lena asked. “I mean, I was a little disaster having a panic attack outside, and then you walked up, all tall and dressed in your fatigues and ray-bans, and you said ‘make Reyes laugh and your life here will never be hard.’ I didn’t know who you were then, I certainly didn’t know it was your mother I was having a panic attack about meeting, but I walked in there and I cracked a joke first thing, and Commander Reyes just doubled over. After that, the whole day I just felt like I fit in there and I was able to relax.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Fareeha said, “but in the interest of full disclosure I don’t remember that part at all. Are you sure it wasn’t someone else?”

“Your name was embroidered on your fatigues,” Lena laughed, “but more importantly, I was sixteen and very gay, and you definitely made an impression.”

Emily chuckled. “Trust me, Fareeha, this is not the first time I’ve heard this story.”

“Amazing that Gabriel was like that even back then.” Olivia quipped. 

“You knew him?” Lena asked excitedly. 

“You could say that,” Olivia nodded. “He was always… I mean, I’d say he was like a father to me, but he’s kind of like a father to everyone, you know?”

Lena smiled wistfully. “I think we’re going to get along famously, Sombra. I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

“Here’s hoping this Ian O. has some answers for us,” Fareeha said, “I don’t think I can give you any advice on how to get him to like you.”

“Ian O?” Sombra asked. 

“That’s what your friend said his name was,” Fareeha explained, “back at the airport, Zarya called him Ian O. At least, that’s what it sounded like.”

“You must have misheard,” Olivia said, “Nobody can understand a word Zarya says anyway, I assume that’s why Lynx follows her around.”

“Lynx said Ian O. too, though.” Fareeha furrowed her brow. 

“I spoke to our benefactor on the phone when we set this up,” Olivia explained, “it was definitely a woman’s voice. Now, I’m not saying that a woman can’t be named Ian, but I doubt our benefactor is using her real name to set this up.”

“Probably not,” Fareeha shrugged. “We’ll find out for sure tomorrow, I guess!”

“Okay!” Emily announced, “The movie is now officially ready. If you’re a dog lover, I suggest having tissues at the ready. Everyone grab a beautiful woman and let’s watch!”

It was at this point that Hana walked in. “Someone’s already grabbing all the women in this room,” she announced. 

The two couples made room for Hana between them on Lena and Emily’s bunk, which did not deter Hana from finding a way to use all four of them as a pillow in one fashion or another. They started the movie, and when Satya entered, the group insisted she sit with them and watch as well, and while she initially feigned disinterest, it became clear very quickly that she was very glad to be wanted and included. She didn’t even object when Hana quietly began braiding her hair, and by the end of the movie, she had one arm around both Tracer and Emily, who were dangerously close to falling asleep, and the other around Hana, who was practically buzzing with excitement from the thrilling bit of classic cinema she’d just witnessed. 

Fareeha and Olivia, now acutely aware of how much stress they’d been under up to that point, finally felt relaxed enough to retire to bed. When the lights went down and Olivia was sure everyone but them had fallen asleep, she softly placed a series of light kisses along Fareeha’s collarbone and felt Fareeha shiver quietly in her arms. Over the next few hours, Olivia discovered several other nearby places that had a similar effect on Fareeha, and throughout the night, Fareeha felt a thrill every time Olivia’s hands or lips decided to delicately visit them. 

Fareeha and Olivia were grateful to have had such a lovely first night together. Each of them would fondly revisit the memory of that night for decades to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ten points if you can ID the movie


	7. Into The Iris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra sees what's to come and makes preparations! The heroes' mysterious benefactor arrives at the bunker. New developments are a huge headache for Maximilien.

Olivia sat at the counter in the bunker and slowly poured honey into her tea, watching it dissolve. Almost everyone else in the bunker was still asleep, and as much as she hated to leave Fareeha, she sensed something was wrong this morning and hoped to relax her nerves. 

As if on cue, a gentle voice called out from the corridor: “Sister,” it said softly, “I see you’ve felt the disturbance as well.”

Oliva jumped slightly. In her line of work, she was used to listening for the footsteps of anyone who might sneak up on her, and she was sure she hadn’t heard anyone approaching. “Sister…?”

“Apologies, sister, we haven’t been formally introduced and I don’t know how you prefer to be addressed. I am Zenyatta, Tekhartha of the Shambali.”

Olivia hesitated, remembering that someone in the bunker may be a mole. “You can call me Sombra.”

“The Shadow,” Zenyatta mused, stroking his chin. “Many of the Shambali have felt your presence for some time, but it’s nice to finally meet you in person?”

This piqued Olivia’s interest. “The Shambali knew about me?”

“Those of us who have opened our minds to the Iris can always sense those who are unsure of their place in it,” Zenyatta said. 

Olivia laughed. “I don’t think I’m unsure of anything.”

“If you weren’t unsure, you would know,” Zenyatta pointed out. “On a spiritual level, humans and omnics are the same, but on a physical level, there are obvious differences in our construction. Some, like you, like my apprentice Genji, blur even the physical line between human and omnic. Genji is a man trapped in the skin of a machine, but I think you may be something close to the opposite. No one in our order has ever met you, but we have felt you traverse the Iris on many occasions.”

“Do you mean when I’ve…” Olivia paused, feeling a pang of guilt, “the times I’ve hacked omnics?”

Zenyatta considered this. “Well, we historically haven’t been thrilled about that, but we respect the fact that you’re at least an equal-opportunity hacker. You hack humans as often as you hack omnics.”

Olivia didn’t quite know what emotion she was meant to feel in response to this. 

“A joke, worry not.” Zenyatta chuckled. “I’ve personally been following your work for some time. You have been involved in some… unfortunate endeavors, and you have served yourself first and foremost, but it’s also difficult to ignore the good you’ve done. There are children alive in Dorado today because you reprogrammed all of the ATMs in the poorer neighborhoods to quietly take from Guillermo Portero’s offshore accounts.”

Olivia wondered if Zenyatta would be so forgiving if he knew that she worked for the organization that had killed his brother. She decided that he probably would, and that made her incredibly uneasy, so she decided to change the subject. “You said something about a disturbance?”

“I know you felt it too. It’s why you’re awake so early. It’s why the hairs on your neck are standing on end,” Zenyatta said matter-of-factly.

Olivia nervously stirred her tea. “Something just… feels wrong. It’s like, when you’re about to go on a long trip and you  _ know _ there’s something really important you forgot to do, but you can’t put your finger on it. I just know we’ve gotten something wrong, or made some mistake, and if I don’t figure out what, we’re never going to win this thing.”

Zenyatta nodded. “This is what I’ve felt as well.”

“I guess it’s just nerves, but I can’t shake it,” Olivia said, sipping her tea. 

“It’s not nerves,” Zenyatta explained, “the Iris is being thrown out of balance. Everyone will be feeling somewhat… on edge… but people like you and me will be the most affected.”

“People like you and me?” Olivia asked. 

“Those of us attuned to the Iris’ movements, and understand its inner workings,” Zenyatta said. 

Olivia pondered this for a moment. “Not to make a spiritual conversation into a purely technical one, but… usually when I’m dealing with a glitch, I run diagnostics. Is there any way to do that with the Iris?”

“The Iris is not a simple computer system, it is the spiritual sum of all consciousness on our planet, the metaphorical common ground on which all humans and omnics stand together,” Zenyatta stroked his chin again, and continued, “but yes, between the two of us, it should be doable.”

“How do we do it?” Olivia asked. 

Zenyatta outstretched both of his hands. “We will need to transcend our physical forms and pass into the Iris.”

Olivia looked at his outstretched hands. “I’m going to need you to be a lot more specific with your instructions.”

“Take my hands and close your eyes,” Zenyatta instructed, and Olivia complied. “Open yourself to any and all connections.”

Olivia winced at this. Her cybernetic systems were some of the most secure on the planet, and she had the personal vulnerability skills to match. Something about Zenyatta set her at ease, though, and she realized that there was no way anyone outside the bunker could hack her, so she knew it probably wouldn’t kill her just this once. She mentally issued a command to all of her firewalls and security measures to deactivate immediately. She immediately felt herself relax and wondered if it was something Zenyatta was doing. 

“Now, sister, open your eyes.” Zenyatta instructed. 

Sombra looked up and no longer seemed to be in the bunker, but she couldn’t tell where exactly she was. Zenyatta floated before her, his hands still holding hers, but six other golden arms stretched from his back and seemed to grasp the very fabric of the universe. Around her feet was a massive golden ring with an incredibly intricate pattern spiraling throughout it. 

“Is this…?” Sombra gestured at the ring. 

“It’s a metaphorical representation,” Zenyatta said. “You are in a trance. The eyes of your mind are open, but the eyes of your body remain closed. I cannot see what you see. You must find the imperfection in the Iris yourself.”

“How can I do that? I don’t know what it’s supposed to look like on a normal day,” Sombra asked. 

“Everything you’re seeing is a product of your own mind. If you know what an error looks like to you, you’ll be able to identify the fault easily.”

“What an error looks like to me,” Sombra muttered, “you’d think a religion founded by robots would be a little less abstract.”

She looked around at the ground for anything that might be considered a glitch. The intricate pattern on the ground was constantly shifting and shimmering, with hundreds of rings composed of black and gold bars, blinking on and off. She considered that they might be binary, but they shifted too fast for ehr to read what it said. Her eyes were drawn far to her right, though. There was a small patch near the fringe of the circle. She walked over to it and saw about two square feet that were not changing at all. With the bars fixed in place, she could read what the code in this patch said. Her eyes widened as she saw what was written. 

A moment later, Olivia gasped for breath on a beanbag chair back in the material plane. “We got it all wrong,” she gasped, “I need to get to a keyboard right this second.”

Fareeha was already holding her hand. “Are you okay? You’ve been out for two hours.”

“I saw something in the Iris, I can’t explain it,” Olivia said, starting to panic, “We’ve been looking in the wrong direction the whole time. I need to start coding right now.”

“Zenyatta hooked you up to Hana’s computer when you blacked out, he said you’d need to be able to review the logs,” Fareeha said, pulling a pink and blue laptop off a table next to her. 

“Good, I can code faster if I don’t have to use my hands,” Olivia said, and her eyes started flickering purple as she mentally wrote thousands of lines of code in a second. 

“Code  _ what? _ ” Fareeha pleaded. 

“A piece of software to run a device that hasn’t been invented yet,” Olivia explained curtly, “but by the time we need it, it will be.”

Olivia finished coding and pulled out the USB cable connecting her to Hana’s laptop, then sprang from the beanbag chair, grabbed a dry-erase marker from the nearby whiteboard, and started frantically drawing a circle of symbols in omnicode on the wall. 

“What are you doing, Liv?!” Fareeha had never been more confused. 

“We need to leave this circle up for ten seconds, then erase it before out benefactor arrives. I can’t explain why,” Olivia said through her panic, frantically writing on the wall. 

“Why not?!”

“What I learned in the Iris is slipping away from me. By the time I finish this, it could be gone, and if I don’t get this right, we’re all dead. I can’t explain it to you later, either, I won’t even remember the explanation myself for much longer.” Olivia explained. “I need you to rouse everyone and get them in this room in the next five minutes.”

Fareeha was frustrated, but recognized the urgency in Olivia’s voice. She quickly rushed from room to room telling everyone to gather in the common area. 

“What’s happening here?” Brigitte asked, “Why did you wake us?”

“Can’t tell you just yet,” Sombra said, “but in 25 years, we’ll know if this worked, and we’ll be glad we were all in here. Oh, and somebody tackle Morrison, he’s the mole and he doesn’t know it.”

“What?” Jack Morrison asked, “I’m not--” 

Morrison was interrupted as Reinhardt grabbed him in an inescapable bear hug, knocking the wind out of him and shouted “GOT HIM!”

“You are. Saw the subroutine myself just now. Sorry, man, they hacked that visor and implanted instructions in your subconscious. You hear the trigger phrase, you black out and send them everything you know. I’m sure someone here can help deprogram you. Are we all here? Yeah?” Olivia quickly erased all the symbols on the wall. 

“Whatever this is,” Fareeha asked urgently, “is it going to help us stop Maximilien?”

Olivia finally began to relax. “He’s not the real threat. Someone else is gonna stop Maximilien in just a few moments.” She sat back down in the beanbag chair.

Almost everyone had a follow-up question, but none of them got to ask them, because at that moment, the door to the bunker opened, and Genji stepped through. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce our benefactor.”

***

Maximilien was displeased with the report on the Silva hit. He wished that Fawkes had been more like Sombra, who at least had the courtesy to finish her target before being killed in the attempt. His bodyguard was in the wind, and Maximilien was absolutely furious. His metallic fingers clacked on his keyboard as he added a new name to his hit-list: “Mako Rutledge.”

“What are you writing, Maximilien?” A deep voice asked from behind him. 

“How did you get into my study?” Maximilien asked, a bit scared. 

“I punched my way out of a secure prison cell,” the voice replied, “I can handle the lock on your front door.”

“I’m a businessman,” Maximilien replied. “If I don’t keep detailed books, I could lose millions.”

The intruder leaned down to look at the screen. “But, Maximilien, there must be a mistake. See, when I have a dirty job, I prefer to take care of it myself, so I’ve never been one of your clients.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Maximilien insisted, trying to discreetly minimize the window. 

“If it has nothing to do with me, then why is my name on your books?” The intruder laughed, and continued, “oh, I see! Now I know what you’re writing!”

Maximilien was nervous. “Y...you do?”

“You’re writing a suicide note,” the intruder said coldly, and a second later, a large brass gauntlet enclosed Maximilien’s head and crushed it like an empty soda can.

The intruder shoved Maximilien’s body to the ground and used his computer to contact the remaining members of the Talon high council, all three of whom answered immediately. 

“We’re launching the campaign,” he said, “it starts today.”

“The decision must be unanimous,” a bored-sounding Irish voice said.

“The usurper is dead,” he replied, “and we are now the totality of Talon command. All opposed to our operation?”

There was silence on the call. 

“Then I will begin preparations immediately,” the intruder said. 

“Congratulations, Doomfist,” a deep, growling voice replied.

“That’s General Ogundimu to you,” Doomfist said. “Ladies and gentleman, as of now, we are at war.”


End file.
